


You're familiar (like my mirror years ago)

by maplewoodmoth



Series: Chains Upon Your Children: Obscurial Harry [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Obscurial Harry Potter, Obscurus (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28457883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maplewoodmoth/pseuds/maplewoodmoth
Summary: Familiar faces, different places. Sometimes like finds like in unexpected spaces
Relationships: Rubeus Hagrid & Harry Potter
Series: Chains Upon Your Children: Obscurial Harry [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081037
Comments: 13
Kudos: 121





	You're familiar (like my mirror years ago)

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't NOT write about Hagrid in this AU sorry.

Disaster follows Harry eventually, as it often does. When he’s eleven it starts to piece itself together into a clearer picture when he learns about magic.

Now the disaster can be explained away as a nightmare, 3 years behind him. 

Kind of explained away, but not quite at least. 

When Hagrid comes and looks at Harry, he sees double for a moment. A little boy with a too big shadow that almost swallows him as whole as his too big clothes, and eyes dull with exhaustion and despair. He sees the shadow overwhelm the little boy’s shaking form, and instantly he is overwhelmed with compassion. Hagrid wants to lift up this undernourished and underappreciated child and carry him far far away where he will never be bothered again. 

Instead of acting on any of his impulses, the ones that have never led him astray even if they have occasionally led him awry, Hagrid smiles as gently as he can to the small Harry, and makes himself as unthreatening as possible. He bunches his shoulders and speaks softly and as if to a scared and wounded creature and slowly, Hagrid sees something unclench in Harry’s light frame. 

What was Dumbledore t h i n k i n g? Hagrid wonders, That leaving Harry with these awful people seemed like a good idea? 

Hagrid doesn’t think much beyond it in the moment, too distracted with trying to make Harry more comfortable and safe as he can around people that have obviously neglected him as much as an unwanted krup puppy. But he resolves to think more on it, and failing that, ask Professor Kettleburn for some advice- he has more experience dealing with neglected critters and his people skills are a sight better than Hagrid’s. 

**

The idea of Hogwarts is… fantastic, word failing, gorgeous and dangerous and terrifying to Harry. It almost infuriates him that there was an entire community of people that knew about him- knew about his family (his PARENTS, who actually had loved him) and still somehow decided that the Dursley’s were the best for him. 

Harry hates that idea almost as much as he hates himself. 

**

Harry’s a skinny, lonely, scared little boy who is friends with the spiders in his cupboard and is convinced that he’ll never amount to anything enough to be loved. 

But that’s ok. Harry doesn’t need people, he doesn’t need love or power or anything and everything in between. He just wants to be left alone. Unfortunately the universe can’t leave him well enough alone, and neither will the wizarding community now that they’ve got their precious boy hero back. 

He is almost grateful for the people that seem to dislike him, if only for the familiarity- so like the Dursleys in their unexplained dislike of Harry. Hagrid though, Hagrid is baffling. 

Hagrid seems ok, Harry supposes. He doesn’t make grand, large or fast gestures that startle Harry. Hagrid doesn’t walk so fast as if he’s more determined to lose Harry in the crowd, embarrassed and disappointed to be seen with him. Hagrid speaks low and soft and not at a shrill or bellowing tone; he actually smiles at Harry as if he’s glad to see him, and he bothers to explain things to Harry, not as if he’s dumb or a waste of time, but like he actually wants to be talking to Harry and is delighted that someone’s listening. 

Hagrid, Harry thinks, acts like someone who’s been hurt before for being different and is determined to make sure nobody else feels the same way that he did. He acts a little like me, Harry thinks. And abruptly, with all the vigor of an eleven year old, Harry promises that he will make sure that nobody treats Hagrid that way again, not if he can help it. 

So Harry walks the streets of Diagon Alley, keeping in the shadows of Hagrid’s coat, and Hagrid (unlike in a different universe) doesn’t force Harry to talk to anyone or shake their hands. He keeps the attention, as much as it clearly makes him uncomfortable, all on him and not at all on the little waif of a boy he keeps a protective hand and a subtle disillusionment charm on. Harry is so relieved he could cry, but used to being overlooked, makes an effort to keep his expression that he doesn’t realise no one can see as placid as he can. 

In this universe, Hagrid doesn’t let Harry out of his sight, and ignores the stares and glares of people that see a giant man apparently muttering to himself as a threat. In this universe, Harry feels safe, if only for a short time. In this universe, after Gringotts, where Hagrid asks for a private room to speak to the goblins who watch Harry with their wide grins and knowing eyes, after the hole in the wall boutiques that Hagrid insists on taking Harry to in order to get his supplies- away from the crowds and the noises and the eyes that watch, are always watching- Hagrid takes Harry to a little place that many don’t know about, a sturdy little pub in the corners of Knockturn Alley, known as the ‘Nott-Your-Business’. The owner is an equally sturdy little goblin lady with a serious face and a wicked sparkle in her eyes as well as a promise for privacy as requested, no questions asked. 

There, Hagrid sits Harry down and explains to him in quiet words over a cup of tea, that Harry needs to go back to the Dursely’s, just for a while longer, until the first of September. 

The rattling teacups, Hagrid expects. The suddenly boiling liquid in the kettle, whistling, he’s not surprised about. The suddenly curdled milk, he doesn’t flinch at. 

What makes Hagrid’s eyes go wide, however, is the wide eyes that plead at him and the smoke that curls off of the clenched fists set on the table as Harry bursts out “But WHY?” unhappy and honest and heartbroken. 

Hagrid can’t lie, can’t go the high road of saying “because I said so” as the adult of the situation. Can’t blame it on Dumbledore, and the upper management and old old magic that both he and Harry know nothing about. 

Instead, he breathes out, and chooses his words carefully, just as carefully as he has made sure not to outwardly tense or react to the unrestrained magic that he sees run rampant around him. 

Instead, Hagrid holds his palms outward and open on the table, and helplessly, helplessly says quietly, the truth: “I don’t know.” 

And Harry crumples in on himself, not breaking, not shattering, but understanding that life isn’t fair, has never been fair, and will never be fair. 

The only thing left to do is to withstand. 


End file.
